Rememorize
by jkwasher
Summary: Actions can have consequences. Sometimes a person doesn't remember those actions, but when they do...
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: Haven't had much time lately, have new mysteries and a huge backlog of science fiction flowing to my critique groups. So far I have two stories to enter in the Tony Hillerman short story contest, and hope my novel "Misdirection," currently undergoing liposuction for the magic 60k word entry, will be ready in time. This just poured out a few days ago, so I submit it to last until I can finish the other stories here (yes I do plan to finish them.) I envision this as a two-parter. This is pretty hot off the presses, be kind re typos.**_

 _ **The PREMISE: Is based upon a REAL experience I had, a black-out night in Sheridan, Wyo in 1974. I was 20, the age we all do stupid and silly things and hope our guardian angels are in synch with us those moments.**_

 _ **Truth is usually weirder than fiction. We were summer college students who kept our Jim Beam or whatever cool in the pop machine in the dorm. Geologists are a drinky bunch. We all went out dancing at a bar. Most of us were drinking Coors, but someone suggested I try a Rusty Nail (with Scotch which tasted like paint thinner) started dancing again, and I don't remember anything after…lost my favorite tin camp cup out of the Suburban that night, and woke up in my underwear in the dorm the next morning. My roommate (female) had kinda helped me undress. I remain thankful for her chaperonage that night.**_

 _ **So, reviewers: It COULD happen…LOL**_

 **Rememorize**

Vic eventually resigned herself to the fact it was time for a hem-and-haw confrontation, and infiltrated Walt's office early Friday afternoon, while Ruby was out at lunch and Ferg was on patrol.

"Walt."

He looked up from his reports, and the brittleness around her heart softened, just a little. He had deep shadows under his eyes, had for a while, really. The Wrongful Death lawsuit was still pending, and she knew it ate away at his independence and made him second-guess his every move. They had all been pulling double shifts without Zach or Eamonn, and she suspected he was afraid to hire another deputy while under such scrutiny. What she had to say would only complicate that, but it had to be said.

"I need to tell you something."

"Okay." He didn't rise, something he used to do in deference to her as a woman. Part of her new persona-non-gratis, she guessed. It went along with the mysterious relationship with his girlfriend Donna, although she had thought at one point that might change. She had no idea of Walt and Donna's status.

 _The nature of my relationship is none of your business._

"Um. I'm pregnant."

Well, she got a reaction. Thunderstruck. Tongue-tied. Pole-axed.

Worse than hem-and-haw, then.

"Uhmmm…"

"I just thought you should know. I'll take myself off active duty in a couple of months when I start showing, where it might affect my performance."

"Uhhhh.."

"I've been looking around, and there are some trailers out near the Rez I may be able to afford, I won't trouble Cady with staying on, and I already have been watching the daycare ads, so I'll make it work."

"Ah, okay…" He appeared to be still struggling.

She waited. She knew he was processing an that it often took a while to get to his conclusions.

He finally managed, "The guy. The dad. What about the dad? Will he help?"

That one stopped her. Eamonn, only the once, had been more than five months ago. She was two months pregnant. Was he making some kind of joke? No…he wouldn't joke about that. That must mean…Walt didn't… _remember_?

They had both drunk too much, but what a night. It remained an indelible imprint on her memory, but… _he_ genuinely didn't _remember?_ Shit _._ No wonder there had been no indication, no offers, no apologies, no repeats in the last couple of months. He wasn't embarrassed, he wasn't pulling punches or in denial, he really didn't _remember_.

Ahhh, the seduction of Lucian's Pappy's. She'd thought she'd been far more memorable than that, but evidently not.

Her lips twisted to keep her answer neutral. "Um, not right now. I just thought you should know," she said again, feeling stupid and even lower than before. What had she expected? Protestations of love from him? She'd known better than that, but this…total absence of memory, like a wipe…

She sighed. "I had better get back to those phone records."

He made a noise, maybe agreement, maybe just actually taking in her words. He nodded, still looking pole-axed.

Well, so was she, for that matter.

He really didn't _remember?_

XXX

 **Two months ago**

He'd called her from the cabin just before she left work for the day. It had been one long, shitty day in a succession of them.

"I've made a list of the suspects I can remember seeing at the party. I thought maybe we could compare notes."

She sighed. The downward spiral since Chance, Branch choking her, Walt's punch, in charge of the office for a month, had all taken their toll. She was just so damned tired, and she admitted on the other end, strung tight.

"Um, you don't have a date tonight or something?"

"No, she cancelled. I'm free."

That stung more than a little, it must mean he was still dating the doctor.

She exhaled. "I don't know, Walt. It's been a long day."

"Bring something from Henry's. We can eat and go over the list."

Fuck. That almost sounded like a date, but on command. Not good.

 _You can do this. Just say "no."_ But when had that ever happened? Not even when she was married to Sean. Finally in an exhaled rush, "Okay, but it'll be a while. I'm still working on the warrant."

"Whenever you get here is fine."

She punched the phone off with more force than it deserved. Who was she kidding? She was freer than free. Cady would be delighted if she went out for an evening. Since that one misbegotten night with Eamonn, she hadn't been out anywhere for anything, much less a date or a guy. Work with Walt in the evening was just more day, right? She was overworked, and he was working non-stop trying to repair the holes his management style had wrought since Martha's death.

She pulled up to the cabin in a flurry of dust an hour later.

He came out to the porch, beer in hand as she mounted the steps.

She held out the bag to him. "Dinner as requested."

Indulging her exhaustion, she went over to one of the rush-seat chairs along the porch. Plunked down. "Long day." It might have sounded like she was apologizing, but she wasn't, just enjoying the absence of motion.

He popped the tab and held out the beer to her. It was cold. She took it. "Thanks, but just the one. After that double shift, I was ready to either go home and straight to bed, or take a nap in a cell. This won't help."

It was well past time to rehire another deputy, and home was still a room at Cady's. Until Sean left, she didn't realize how little a deputy's salary bought in Durant, and how much a premium real estate market Durant had become with the casino so close.

"Well, let's go over the list and you can go on home. I probably shouldn't have asked you."

 _No, he shouldn't have—_ but when had that ever stopped him, before?

"Yeah, I guess the kid can get ruled out because his family provided him an alibi?"

He pursed his lips. "Maybe."

They ran down the list, with him still holding the bag with dinner in it. They ruled out almost everybody, but she made a few notes to check out. The work never ended. Par for the day.

She finished her beer, and without food, she felt a little light-headed, just enough to ask, "So we're not at the office. How's the investigation, the lawsuit, and that other stuff going?"

He turned and she thought she maybe saw a frisson of fear cross his face.

"Fuck, Walt, that bad?"

"Come on in and let's eat." He opened the door, she levered herself out of the chair and walked inside with him.

He went back in the kitchen, rummaged around and emerged with a nearly-full bottle of Pappy Van Winkles' Private Reserve.

"Christmas present from Lucian. Maybe also a 'sorry my brother had your wife killed,' bottle." His voice was like gravel, and more than a little wry, maybe trying for a levity that didn't work.

Uh-oh. Had she said the wrong thing? Had she started him on one of his think & drink cycles? She thought those had gone away after Martha, after Pronghorn Ridge, or maybe the month-long isolation after Barlow.

He held up the bottle in question. She shook her head 'no.' "I'll pass, but I'll eat my burger, and then I should go." She moved to the bag and pulled hers out.

She didn't want to watch him self-destruct, disintegrate. Once she had been his friend and would have followed him through hell and to the other side if necessary, but he had put her in her place in a derelict alley three months ago. She had not tried to pry further. Even tonight she was only asking a question which would impact them all if the suit did not go well.

He brought glasses and took a shot of Pappy's straight up and fast.

 _Shit._ Any further discussion of the case was probably over. She began to eat, not polite, just fast.

"I'll get out of your hair as soon as I finish."

"Stay. For a bit." His voice was soft, almost pleading.

A pang, just that was what he'd asked while she'd been vulnerable, signing those fucking divorce papers and thinking he'd meant more. _Stay._

"That hasn't worked out so well, for me, you know."

His eyebrows scrunched, and he poured another Pappy's. A search for liquid understanding, perhaps.

"What do you mean?"

"You asked me to stay. I'm not happy I stayed."

His brows drew down, and he went for Pappy's number three.

"Why are you not happy?"

She blinked slow and tried to formulate an answer to that which didn't sound needy. "You asked me to stay, so I stayed because you asked me to. Now you've moved on, and I haven't."

He looked confused. He reached for the Pappy's. "This stuff is as smooth as Lucian claims."

"Right." She was disgusted, and swiped the last of her French fries in catsup. "You really should eat something, Walt."

"Maybe later." He tossed back another shot.

Her heart sank, as he confirmed his intention to wallow.

"Okay, well…" she cleared her throat. I should be going."

"Donna cancelled, you know. She's cancelled three times the last two weeks."

Her lips twisted. "How many times did _you_ cancel?"

He got a silly grin on his face. "Three times. Maybe she's mad at me."

Her lips bunched. _Join the club._

"Don't go yet. Do you hear that?"

She stilled, listening. "Hear what?" She almost whispered it.

"Nothing. Nothing but a cricket or two. It's so pure at night."

She didn't disagree. If the situation weren't so sad, she would love to sit and just listen to nothing for a while. It was definitely peaceful, despite the cabin's history of violence.

"It gives me peace." He sounded so weighed down with everything he took upon his shoulders.

"It is…like serenity away from the world." She stopped, seeing him watching her.

Right. Her cue to go, before drunken Walt became self-pitying insensible Walt. She didn't want to watch that.

He sat up straight. "I think of her at night, you know."

 _Think of whom? Pronouns are so important. Please God, let it not be Donna._

She drained the last of her beer. "Who do you think of at night, Walt?" She asked it, preparing for her armor to be further shredded.

"Martha. I still miss her sometimes, 'specially when it's quiet. The quiet is like my friend, but lately, at times, it feels like my enemy."

Her heart melted. She understood loss and loneliness, even if she hadn't experienced it to physical death. In her mind, his loss as a friend to her was a daily death of sorts.

He wobbled as he sat. It woke her up to his vulnerability.

"Let's get you settled, Walt. I'll fetch you a blanket out of the pantry."

That she knew at all where they were remained an artifact of the one awful night she had spent on his couch long ago, when Lizzie had ignored the two trucks out front and acted like her being there was some sort of cosmic surprise.

She reached to try and get him to lie down, and he pulled her to him and buried his head in her chest.

"Stay. I don't want to be alone."

 _Shit._ Wasn't this what she had wanted? Once? Maybe, but not like this.

She allowed herself to touch his hair, wrap her arms around him, comforting.

"It will all come out okay, Walt, it all will."

"She didn't just cancel. Donna broke up with me." His words weren't slurred, but were very soft.

Well, she wasn't sorry about that, so she really couldn't say anything to it. Over the last three months, she had made a few professional courtesy calls to Eamonn along the way, but hadn't had a personal conversation with him since he'd taken her to task at the Red Pony. They had each understood the other very well after that. Walt stood, or possibly, lay, unresolved between them.

"Aah, so that's what all this is about."

"And the lawsuit moved up another level, today."

She took a deep breath. It was all hitting him at once. She hadn't seen him drunk like this, ever. He might have some Rainiers from time-to-time, but he could hold a number of them pretty well. This was…different.

"If you're asking me to feel sorry for you, I don't. You chose Donna, you chose this route."

"At first I thought she was like Martha, and then, after Eamonn…I just wanted to hurt you."

 _Shit_ , he really _was_ drunk. Well, then, she'd let him have it. Both barrels.

"I was only with Eamonn the once, to hurt you, Walt, and I'm really sorry things turned out like they did." She rose to gather her Styrofoam, bag and napkins and take them out to the indoor trash can at the back. No outdoor trash because of bears, of course.

When she returned, he was sitting up again, looking at her. She pursed her lips, tried to dismiss how he still drew her, but it was not a successful attempt. "I'll give notice as soon as I find something where I might have a future."

The look on his face was so sad, it took everything in her not to hug him again.

"You had to know this was coming, after what you said in the alley, right? It can't be a surprise. You can't trust a partner who keeps secrets."

He looked stricken. She closed her eyes, opened them again.

He cleared his throat. "What I said was wrong, but now, I just need to forget." He poured and drank another shot. Right about then, it looked pretty good, and there was another glass, just beckoning.

 _Double_ fuck. Maybe she needed to drink to forget, too. He looked from the glass to her, inquiring.

She exhaled. "Just the one." It wobbled as he poured it, but made the offering with no mishaps. She already knew it, she was so fucked…just being there was wrong for both of them, and it had very little to do with sex, but almost everything do to with love.

XXX

 **Two months later**

After Ruby left, Walt came out of his office almost at a shuffle, the one leg, the old injury he would never admit, which dragged. She had seen how tired he'd looked at his desk. She was feeling kind of sleepy, herself. It was evidently a symptom of pregnancy she had not known about before.

"If you need any help, or me to talk to the father…"

She ducked her head. She almost blurted it out: "Talk to yourself!" - But she didn't.

"Thanks, but—remember the alley? Works two ways."

He blanched a little, but his features went impassive. "Oh. Okay."

"Good night, Walt."

She gathered up her things, past the gate and to the stairs. He was still standing behind her, almost dazed.

You _be_ dazed, big guy, maybe it will help you _remember._

XXX

At Cady's house, she put on tea and listened to messages. None for her, no surprise there.

Cady got home, pulled a beer from the fridge.

"Want one?" she asked casually.

"Um. No."

"Okay." But Cady's face registered disbelief. When had she ever turned down the offer of a beer from Cady, before? Ne-ver…

"We need to talk."

"Uh-oh. This sounds serious."

"Maybe. For me, not so much for you. Although…you will be impacted…"

"Okay…"

"I'm pregnant." She said it just as baldly to female Longmire Jr as to the man himself.

"Ohhhh." Cady's words came out in a whooossshh. "How did _that_ happen?" Then she heard herself and turned pink. "I mean…aren't you on the pill?"

She shrugged. "A few weeks after Eamonn and I broke up, I was dead broke, so I ditched them and swore off men."

"Oh, right. I remember that. You haven't been on a date or drinking at the Pony in—months!"

"That's true."

"Yeah, the only night I remember you away anywhere was when you were working over at my—" Cady's eyes met hers and grew wide. "Oh, nooooo…." She exhaled, long. "Not,,, _dad_ …"

"Yeah. Your dad, but it gets worse."

"How could that be worse? Dad, really?"

"Yeah, really. Problem is, he doesn't remember."

Her eyes grew even larger. "He doesn't remember…?"

"Do you think I'm memorable, Counselor Longmire? I mean, would you remember this face?" She struck a pose, made a face.

"Oh, Vic…"

"It is just more of the same in this existentially shitty year we've had…" She didn't go into Branch, it still hurt Cady to talk about him. She didn't go into the beatings, being thrust into the forefront while Walt wallowed in Barlow guilt at home. How their friendship had unraveled and finally dissolved. How they had pushed each other away, yes, now, she acknowledged she had participated in the debacle.

"I got a little drunk and just wasn't prepared it would go so far." She didn't go into how a drunken apology turned into the best night of her life, and probably the only one, from the way things were going. Cady didn't need to know any of that.

"Anyway, I'm looking at the trailers near the Rez, and going to try bartering for daycare after the baby is born." She sucked her breath in. "What that means is…I'm having him or her."

Then it hit her. Cady would know she was going to have a brother or sister before Walt would know. _Triple fuck in a row of Sundays._

"Wow." While Walt had looked pole-axed, Cady looked all soft and sympathetic, not shocked like she'd expected. "I'm so…sorry, for how it is, but…congratulations? I'm just trying to figure it all out."

"Welcome to the club." She tried not to sound bitter. She wasn't, really. It was actually kinda, sorta, terrifyingly wonderful. Or could be. "I just have to figure it all out, too."

"Does Dad…know?"

"He knows I'm pregnant, but he seems clueless as to the dad's identity. I'm hoping eventually he will remember. He's a detective, let him figure it out himself." She paused. "Suffice it to say, he was drunk and depressed that night. Did you know Donna broke up with him? Or that the lawsuit has passed to a higher level? Or that he's terrified to hire another deputy?"

Cady looked uncomfortable. "He didn't share about that doctor, but yes, I know about the suit. I can't talk about it, because I work with one of the plaintiffs. But the deputy thing?"

"He hasn't had much luck with them this last year." _Shit._ She hadn't meant to refer to anything which involved Branch.

"Oh. Yeah. And now this."

Vic gave a long, audible sigh. "Yes, this. _Fuck_."

"And some," agreed Cady. "But for now…I endorse the tea, but how else can I help?"

She and Cady talked into the night about how to launch Operation Baby L.

XXX

 **Two months before**

She woke abruptly, to the beloved silence broken by the sound of birds fluttering and chirping outside. A nest, maybe?

The bed was a mess, clothing strewn everywhere and the filtered pre-dawn grey flowing in through the windows. It had been very late when they'd finally succumbed to sleep, and he was still snoring peacefully. He might have a hangover whenever he woke, but at least it was a mercy he was getting some shut-eye.

She slid away from him, off the bed, remade her side of it, and plucked her clothing from the trail leading to the front room. Clothing in hand, she dressed quietly, washed her glass in the sink, put it away, and slunk out the door.

First things first.

Coffee, and then…more coffee.

In the car, she automatically went to put up her ponytail, but couldn't find the tie. She had been wearing it before…before… _Shit_. She wasn't going back in, no way. If it came up, she'd just say it fell out of her pocket.

So back to coffee and more coffee.

Her head wasn't so bad, but she felt like she could go back to sleep for a week, and she was on duty this morning. She made a mental note to move Walt's shift back to afternoon on the duty roster.

And sighed. She had no idea what would happen. Donna had ditched him, but was he ready, was _she_ ready to take him on, after what they'd done to one another the past year?

The morning seemed interminable.

When he strode in just after lunch, cursory nods to everyone he just walked past and shut his office door with more force than necessary. She winced. That was not what she had expected at all.

When he did not call her in or speak to her for the next four hours, she became increasingly angry. He could at least acknowledge her, or apologize. Well, you could ask, for what? She had willingly participated, but it had crossed a line they had both kept as neutral, uncrossed territory for four years.

And now what? How did he feel? How would he react? Guilt, shame, pleasure?

The next hours, weeks, and months supplied her with her answer: nothing.

 _Nothing._

XXX

 _ **Four Months Later**_

Cady intercepted her as she carried another box out to the truck. Ferg and Zach were helping her move, wouldn't let her carry anything. She hadn't asked Walt, she'd been avoiding him for a while. It just hurt so much to be near him. Now that she was on desk duty, it was much easier to avoide him.

"Stop carrying stuff. We can do it."

"Fuck, it's not heavy. I won't hurt him, I promise."

In deference to beginning to show, was wearing—shudder—stretch maternity jeans and her uniform shirt untucked. It wasn't according to dress code, but she was in uncharted territory for Absaroka County. The voices behind the hands in Absaroka were not unexpected, but an unwelcome consequence. The poor department, with the lawsuit still wallowing along in legal limbo, and here she was, doing her best to tarnish it further.

She hugged Cady before she left.

"I can't believe he still can't remember, and you're letting him get by with it!"

She swallowed. "If it didn't mean anything to him then, it doesn't now." She didn't mean it to come out waspish, but the hormones were in full swing. Everyone at the office had backed off after some recent doozies had flown out of her mouth.

Carrying Walt's son, something had changed within her. A new attitude, surpassing the terror. Fuck them, if they couldn't take a joke. She was going to be one _hell_ of a mother!

Only five months to go.

XXX

"Thanks for coming by, Eamonn."

"Oh, no problem, Walt, while we're cleaning house after Wilkins, I have nothing better to do." He grinned to let him know that was a joke

Walt wanted to grin back, but he couldn't. "You talked to Vic, lately?" He stood, his hands hooked in his pockets. He really wanted to hit Eamonn, but that would not be appropriate—yet—nor produce the desired information.

"Ah, no, not really, just a few case consults with her over the phone."

"You haven't seen her, I mean, like out of the office in the last four months or so?"

"No. Not at all. Why?"

He shook his head. "Not sure. Just thought I'd ask. So you two, you're not dating?"

"Whoa. Walt, we never "dated."

So he said it. Her words. "She said you slept together…had a sexual relationship."

Eamonn cleared his throat. "Ah. No dates, just the one night. That is, we haven't seen each other off-duty for what, seven, eight months now?"

"Oh." He was doing the math in his head, and knew that if that were the truth, Eamonn couldn't be the father. He'd been alternately terrified and resigned it was Eamonn, but it would at least have been closure. Now he'd have to figure out who she was really seeing. Someone she didn't want him to know about.

He'd had vivid dreams of her recently, and for the last few months. At first, he thought he'd felt guilty because of Donna, or even Martha, but the dreams had really taken over recently.

"Why all the Vic questions, Walt?"

"Oh, um, when you and she talk again, it will become clear."

"Okayyyy…."

"Sorry to bring you in for nothing, Eamonn."

"You worried about Vic?"

He shrugged. He really couldn't hide the concern. "Maybe. But thanks for coming in."

Eamonn jerked his head. "Okay. He rose, as Vic, shirt loose around her, threw open the door and strode in. When she stood hipshot with arms crossed, her shirt pulled tight around her belly.

"Hey. Eamonn. I heard you were visiting." Well, she sounded glad enough to see him.

"Hey yourself. Hey. Vic?" He challenged her to tell him.

"Yeah, knocked up, I know. Don't worry, it wasn't you. I would have called you."

"So who's the lucky guy?" Eamonn sounded like he was joking, or like he'd like to hit the guy as well.

She made a face. "Wouldn't you nosy menfolk like to know. Just let me be happy, okay?"

"Okay," said Eamonn, giving up.

From behind his desk, Walt felt himself glowering. He didn't _want_ to give up.

XXX

 **One month ago**

Lunch with Cady was going well. Then out of the blue she had to ask that question.

"So, are you and the doctor still dating?"

He used his fork to play with Dorothy's Cobb salad, and took a swig of iced tea. He had been trying to eat better, thinking that might make the dreams less pervasive. He had to change his sheets every couple of nights, now. It seemed like he had no control, and all he could see was Vic. Not Donna, not Martha, but _Vic._

"No. I didn't know you knew about her. Broke up about three months ago.

"Oh. About the time Vic came out to the cabin to discuss a case?"

He thought back, remembered getting out the Pappy's, the rest of the evening disintegrating into a blur before fading to black.

"Yeah, I was a little preoccupied that night."

"Sorry about you and the doctor. Next time, you might consider introducing me to your girlfriend. You have a history of _not._ "

"Lizzie wasn't my girlfriend. She thought she was."

"But Donna was?"

"Yeah, I asked her out, so, yes, I guess technically she was, but it didn't last long."

"Why did you break up?"

"She didn't like how I handled myself. She didn't like the country, or the cabin. She wanted…more than I could give. We just…didn't get along."

Cady sighed. "Okay, so it wasn't a great love tragedy then?"

He stilled. "No…"

"Did it happen because you really wanted to date Vic? I think she thought you wanted to, after the divorce."

He looked up suddenly. "Did she say something?"

Cady shook her head. "Not so much, only that she was very surprised you were dating the doctor."

"Hmmmph." How could he tell Cady, 'My department is under fire, and she was screwing someone else. I wanted to get laid, but my partner had changed her mind, so I looked somewhere else.' That was the problem. He couldn't.

"Dad? Are you in there somewhere?"

"Hmmmph." He couldn't say any of that, not to Cady, really.

"Are you going to start dating again?"

"That's personal, Cady."

"Dad."

"I don't…"

"What about Vic? She could use a friend about now, don't you think?"

"She's having some guy's baby. Some guy who's not in her life anymore, maybe never was." He couldn't help himself, the words came out like a growl.

"Even more reason to, then. I'm pretty sure she still likes you."

"Hmmmph."

"Just think about it, all right?"

But the time just never seemed to present itself, although he offered help again if she needed it. Maybe uncomfortable with his offer, he noticed Vic started avoiding him.

And the dreams intensified.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2**

 **One Month After Vic Announces Pregnancy**

Not long after Vic announced her pregnancy to him, Ruby came into his office late one afternoon just before quitting time.

"Walter, I'm surprised you haven't either terminated Vic or put her on administrative leave or… _something_."

He looked up. The paperwork never seemed to stop these days, and he longed for a nice, juicy murder to solve to take him away from it.

"Why? What did she do?"

"Walter," she said in conspiratorial tones, and to be sure, rather patronizing, "there's never been a pregnancy before in the Absaroka Sheriff's department, much less one of an unwed mother. How does that look with the cloud we have hanging over us?"

Vic had done nothing professionally wrong, or personally, for that matter, as far as he knew, other than hiring Hector. The morals clause in her contract, well, that was possibly another thing. This was Durant, not Chicago.

"What do you suggest I do? Take away her income and leave her penniless and working as a waitress at the Pony for tips?"

Ruby made a displeased noise, as though he were dense. Well, maybe he was. "No, of course not…"

"Then what, Ruby? I've offered to help, but she's reminded me it's not my business."

"That's a crock, Walter Longmire, and you know it. She stayed here after the divorce because of you, no matter what you may let on. You need to either fire her or support her."

"Financially, you mean?"

"No, of course not. I might be able to get the church to help do that, but…"

"But…that might set up endless sermons on Mary Magdelene or encouragement to repent?"

Ruby looked uncomfortable. "Maybe. I can't see Vic standing for any of that."

"Nope."

"Then it's up to you, Walter. I thought for a long time you were mentoring her, and then I thought…well, you were so protective of her...more than Martha, more than Cady…" She looked down. "I don't know what I thought, but nothing happened between you two."

He exhaled through his nose. Really, the world kept bearing down on him. He'd lost Martha, he'd repudiated Lizzie, he'd been dumped by Donna, and now, Vic was in trouble. He went home, downed half a dozen beers, and fell asleep on his couch. His bed had become uncomfortable because he always dreamed of _her_ there.

He didn't know what more he could do.

 **Five Months Later**

Who knew that pregnancies lasted so long? Nine months didn't sound long until you actually had to suffer through them, minute by minute.

More than seven months along, feeling like a bloated boat, no, make that a ship under full sail, usually listing to one side or the other based on the whims of the wind.

The one thing carrying around another person gave you was time to think. Her thinking had changed from the terrifying burden to a blessing she had never thought to have.

Cady had insisted throwing her a baby shower now that the probability of a successful pregnancy was high, and, it seemed she invited half the town. The trailer was overflowing with both used and new baby clothes and all the accoutrements, although some a bit shabby, that she might need.

Ferg had bought her the car seat. "Can't let the little guy get smushed, the way you drive!" He said it grinning, and she was a little overwhelmed. Ruby had bought her a stroller and a Baby Bjorn, because carrying turned into pushing them around so quickly.

One of the ladies gave her baby furniture, another gave her a high chair. True, it saved them from having a garage sale or putting an ad in the paper, but it was really generous considering she'd felt the heat for months from some of the OBB of the town. Cady said many of them had been Martha's friends at church, which explained some of it. She was an embarrassment to the ASD in their eyes.

Too bad she couldn't share the experience with Walt, but after his visit the week before, he had been avoiding her, and she him. It couldn't be helped, with what had transpired.

 **One Month Ago**

She had gone home, coaxed a healthy dinner out of the tiny kitchen in the trailer, and gone for a walk after dinner. Sunset was earlier every day as fall approached, so it was still pretty early. As she came up on the trailer, her face perspiring in the lingering late summer afternoon heat, she saw a tall figure folded on her steps, and down at the other end of the tree-lined gravel walkway sat the Bronco.

"Hey." She wasn't out of breath, but suddenly felt breathless.

"Hey." He looked uncomfortable. "Cady asked if I'd look in on you once in a while now that you're further along."

Her forehead furrowed. "Why? You see me almost every day."

"I know, that's what I told her."

"Oh. Well. I don't have any beer, just to let you know."

He shook his head. "No, I—"

"Look, Walt. We're not in the office here. If it's the gossip around town, if it's complaints about morals, I'm not fazed by them, but if you need to, fire me. It's in your hands."

He looked down at the offending appendages she had mentioned. "No. I would have fired you if it had been the right thing to do. Even in the office, you're pulling your weight. I have no complaints."

She huffed out. "Then…why the visit?"

"I don't know, I thought maybe…" He looked up, squinting a little as though looking past her, "I thought maybe we could finally talk."

"Talk." He might have well used a foreign word. Given Walt's predisposition for just the opposite, it might as well be.

"Yeah, you know. It seemed like…like a lot of stuff has been hanging there for a long time. Things we haven't addressed."

She paused, cleared her throat. "Such as."

"Such as…Chance. Branch. Maybe Eamonn? Definitely Donna."

"Oh." Stunned. She took one of those LaMaze cleansing breaths she had been practicing. Her lips pursed. "Would you like some iced tea?"

He seemed to release a breath he'd been holding. "Sure, I'd love some. Could we go inside, maybe? It's finally getting cool out here."

"Yeah, sure."

He moved off the tiny stoop and she opened the door. He could have gone inside at any time, the lock was a nonsensical device not designed to stop anyone. She poured two iced teas, and wiped her moist face with a paper towel.

"I've cut the heavy exercise routines."

"Makes sense. How are you feeling?"

"Now, great. Was a little tough, early on. Threw up at almost anything."

He gave a rueful grin. "Yeah, I seem to remember a few of those."

Before she'd reluctantly assigned herself to desk duty, there had been a couple of investigations where she'd left the crime scene to, she hoped, discreetly vomit the contents of her stomach.

Henry had offered advice on that, although she never knew where he came by it, or from whom, and it helped. Controlling her breathing, crackers in her go-bag and jacket pockets, and plenty of water. It generally worked. She owed him, and it was always in the back of her mind she could name her baby after him and it would cause no speculation.

She sat as comfortably as she could with a bowling ball in her lap. "So, you want to talk. Spill it, Walt."

"I fought Chance because I didn't want to lose you."

She felt her face go soft. "You saved both Sean and me. Could've died from it."

"No, like…lose you. And I don't mean Sean."

"Oh." She'd thought so at the time, but not for a long while since.

He went on, words a little unsteady. "After Branch, I felt I'd caused his death, you felt you'd caused his death, we were both grieving in our own places and couldn't seem to come together and grieve."

She swallowed. That's probably true…"

"You pushed me away at the river. I…I needed to be held, Vic. There. Then. I was looking for a miracle there in the river, to absolve me of that guilt."

"It wasn't really you I was pushing away. I was drunk and sure I was toxic," she mumbled. "Gorski, Sean, Donaletto, Branch." She hadn't known he'd felt that way. He would never say anything. "I was afraid it would be you next if anything happened between us."

"Eamonn…"

"Never dated him, Walt. Just the one night, but when you threw Donna in my face, I retaliated."

"He told me."

"He… _told_ you?" Her eyebrows crept up.

"Yeah, last month in my office."

"You were talking about me."

"We were trying to figure out who the baby's daddy is, if we could get him to step up, ante up, or do the right thing…"

 _Try looking in a mirror, big guy._

"Ahhh. Okay." It was pretty easy to get pissed with those hormones on overtime. "What happened to the alley speech about your personal life not being my business and vice versa? I mean, you know it's vice-versa, right?"

He turned a little red. "He and I are both worried about you, Vic."

"Worry about the lawsuit, worry about the county. I'm fine. This litle guy is a blessing, no matter what the OBBs or the Town Elders may say."

He seemed to absorb that. Then, "Donna. I think that evening you came over to discuss the case, she'd just broken up with me. That's what I really want to talk about."

"Donna?" Her nose scrunched, a bad smell in the air. "I don't want to talk about her."

"Just hear me out."

She shrugged, sipped at her iced tea, looked at the leaves brushing the window in the freshening breeze outside.

"She wanted me to be a better man than I am."

"What?" She hadn't expected him to say that.

"That reminded me of Martha. Martha would have liked me to end up in the state government, a senator, maybe. She didn't want me to stay 'stuck' in my job, as she called it."

"Hmmmmph. You're good at your job, at finding justice. Maybe not so much at the paperwork, without Ruby, you'd be a wash. Definitely not at the making speeches."

He gave a chuckle. "No arguments there. I like solving puzzles and I hate public speaking. But…" he went on, "Donna didn't like how quiet it was, or that I lived in the country. She didn't like the poetry I liked. All our tastes were different, and I have no idea how I misread that. Martha loved the quiet, but she'd been a ranch girl. I had a dream and I guess thought Donna was another Martha."

"A dream."

"Yeah, had some prettly good ones about her, and…well, she excited me."

"Okay." She felt absurdly uncomfortable at that, remembering something amazing he obviously did not regarding the excitement department.

"Well, we'd never actually even gotten to a date the day her van burned. You sort of set us up that day, after you revealed you and Eamonn had been together."

"Yeah. I wanted to hurt you as much as you hurt me." She said it without thinking.

"What? Why"

She cocked her head. "What?"

"Why did you want to hurt me?"

She made a face, looked down. Because you'd hurt me. "Asked me to say and then looked elsewhere."

"Donna was only very recent.."

"Walt, you'd pushed me away. It took me a while to come to grips with Chance, Branch, Sean and the divorce, eviction, all of it. When I offered you a chance to talk, at the bus, and later to get a burger, you pulled back, then shut me out completely. Everything from ambiguous statements to changing your shirt in the middle of the day."

She could almost see the wheels turning in his head. She knew only too well sometimes it took a while for him to sort information. It was part of his puzzle-solving process.

"You didn't trust me about Jacob."

"You still haven't trusted me with the truth about Jacob."

There. That was a stalemate, on its own.

"And then there was Donna."

"I guess…after the one night she and I were actually together, she told me I talked in my sleep."

This was new information. She stilled, listening intently. Martha would always have a place in his heart…

"Evidently I was saying, "Vic, Vic" in my sleep. Ferg said I mumbled that a lot after the Durrell thing on Tensleep."

"No shit!" Now, he'd surprised her.

"So I guess it was a whole lot of things."

"Yeah." She was still stunned… _he talked in his sleep about her_? "Well, it's too bad, opportunities missed, I guess," she tried to make it philosophical.

He turned his hat in his hands. "Or maybe I just couldn't handle everything going on around me at once?" He almost looked questioning to her.

She sighed. "I'm in early tomorrow to cover for Ruby, Walt. I should probably get some sleep." She stood up and yawned to punctuate her words.

"Yeah." He still sat there. "I should go, but…I don't want to."

There, it was out there, a hint. She refused it. "I do." She swallowed at saying the lie. "Want you to." She said it firmly, but not mean. Just matter-of-fact.

"Then I will." His head bowed a little, but he stood, then turned.

"Vic," he said, and bent to kiss her cheek.

And then strode out of the trailer.

 **One Month Later**

The fall nights were beginning to turn chilly. It would be Halloween soon, her first in Durant not on patrol for unruly revelers. She still walked, but not as long a distance. She tired more easily.

Only the week before, the baby's gender had been confirmed by ultrasound, although the blood test had told her months before. She had decided to name the baby Henry.

She had put on some music, when she heard a car down the lane. She peered out, but the headlights went out. She moved toward her duty weapon, just in case. There were still people who had Walt in their sights, and in her mind, as a pregnant female, she would be a particularly soft target.

Steps crunched up the lane, and in the old sodium lamp, she recognized a familiar hat and drag in the step. She stepped out.

"Walt? You okay?" In her surprise, she'd forgotten she still held her Glock.

He gave a wry smile.

"I give up, officer."

"Yeah, I—well, out this way, you can't be too careful."

"That's kinda what I wanted to talk about, if you have time."

She had lots of time. So much time that words unsaid echoed about in her head on a nightly basis.

She shrugged. "Sure, come on in."

He came up the steps, his one leg dragging, and she realized he looked tired. She peered into his face.

"You look beat. I have iced tea or can make coffee. You need coffee?"

"Coffee does sound good."

"Sure, give me a minute." She whipped around the corner into what was the kitchen, and efficiently fired up the little coffee maker. It could make two cups, which would be enough. "Have a seat." She indicated her sagging, built-in couch which doubled as the seating for her tiny table.

"Vic."

"Yes," she said, forehead furrowed as she critically inspected cups from the cupboard. She'd found dirt in one the other day, no idea how that had happened.

"Vic, please come and sit. We need to talk."

She looked up with surprise. He looked so serious.

"Uh-oh, what did I do now?"

He shook his head. He held out a hand, supplicating. "Just come here."

She reluctantly perched on the edge of the bench opposing the couch. He gave a sigh of relief, or was it resignation?—as she sat.

She jerked her head. "You know, I think I'm going to name the baby Henry."

"Henry? It's a wonderful name, but are you sure? I am here about the baby, though. I'm here because Ruby took me to task a few months ago."

"To task. About what?"

"About you. About us."

She gave a surprised "Huh?!"

He shook his head. She knows without being told that I asked you to stay, and feels it's my fault you're in this predicament."

She felt her eyes grow wary and wider. " _She_ feels that?"

He jerked his head. "Well, she's not wrong about that."

Vic wanted to laugh. Did laugh, rather, scoffed. "So you're Ruby's messenger?"

"No. No, of course not. I just got to thinking."

"Uh-oh," she repeated, but finished it with a twist of her lips. "That's a dangerous occupation when it's you, Walt. Spit it out."

He exhaled through his nose. "I wondered if you'd like to get married. I'll raise the baby as mine."

Okay, it wouldn't take a feather now to knock her over. Not a puff of air. Just breathe on her and she'd be on the floor. "You _what_?" It came out far sharper than she intended, as though he planned to murder her on the back forty.

"You know, us get married, you move out to the cabin. It's safer, there, and the baby can have a lot more room and a nice place to grow up."

"You want to _get married_ for the _baby_? Are you _insane_?"

She obviously had not responded as he'd hoped. "I thought—I thought, maybe we could start again…"

She acknowledged to herself that she'd wanted _that_ for a long time, but not to drag the baby or any commitments into it.

"Oh, Walt," she said sadly, and then heard the coffeemaker beeping.

She sprung up as you could wielding a belly, and poured out the two cups. As she handed his to him from above, her blonde hair fell around them like a living curtain in the confined space. He looked up with surprise, then caught her lips with his. She jerked back, finger to her lips, and couldn't contain the hurt in her reaction. She bounced back into her tiny seat, afraid she was going to break down and bawl.

"Drink it and go." Her throat was thick. She couldn't look at him again before he left.

XXX

He drove home, the most amazing images burning in his brain. Vic, above him, her hair a living throbbing curtain around them, the heat, the sheen of perspiration and smell of lust, the exultation of thrusting and the animal noises emanating from her. _Keening._ The recurring dream, so much more vivid and _lasting_ than those of Martha—or even Donna—had ever been.

As soon as he stepped up into the cabin, no doubt fueled by the coffee, the rejection of his offer and his kiss, he began to clean in a frenzy, anything to do to escape the dream. He began with the kitchen, which took a while. As usual, his place had become a mess again. He followed with the bathroom, and then the living area. He had almost finished with the bedroom, when he elected to move rather than sweep under his dresser, and he found two items: a dusty plastic case and an elastic hair tie. When he opened the case, he saw birth control pills, all neatly in place, with dates early that year. The name on the prescription was Victoria Moretti.

He came out to the couch, plumped down on it with the two items of evidence on the table in front of him, as though they would inform him what they had been doing hiding under his furniture for so long and reveal their story. After a few minutes of unsuccessful study, his thoughts churning, he went to the pantry and brought out the Pappy's. It was usually successful to help him forget and let him sleep.

It was as he poured the first glass that he remembered Vic sitting next to him, trying to converse about a case. _That had been during that unusual evening visit last spring_. He remembered she'd been in her uniform shirt, and hair in a ponytail. She had not tried to talk him out of the Pappy's, because he'd been stung and wallowing in Donna's defection. And what had happened then…?

He remembered her having a couple of beers, and then a shot somewhere along the way, and then nothing later…until her curtain of hair around them, the heat, the lust…

He sat bolt upright and drank down the shot.

He had to be absolutely sure, went to his desk and unpinned the monthly calendar hanging above it, brought it back to the couch, and poured another shot.

The date, the date near where conception of her son had to be…the night she had visited him.

He sat stunned, the second Pappy's undrunk.

He counted back again. He remembered her there, he remembered hearing the snap of the hair tie and trying to get down to bare skin…the small tattoo inside her elbow, her essence of vanilla and lemon, carrying her writhing while circling him back to the bed, nipping, biting _excitement_ …

Head in hands, he groaned. It had to have been real. But why hadn't she _said_ anything? Worse, she had now just rejected his offer. What more could he do, now?

It was late. Too late for a visit, but he would go, anyway. Maybe she would forgive a fool of an old man who had misused her, the town gossiping about her as though she freely gave her favors.

The Bronco's heat warmed him, but his heart was paralyzed by fear. He was terrified she would keep his son from him, take him back to Philly, or hide him somewhere else. Worse, he was terrified he would lose her, forever, if he hadn't already.

When he screeched to a halt in the lane, thinking he should have the brakes looked at again soon, he was afraid he might meet the Glock first, Vic second, so he called out, and yet again.

The third time, she blearily opened the door in a t-shirt which rode up and sweats riding low under her big belly, what appeared to be a blanket around her shoulders, and he walked out into the sodium light. She was yawning, hand over her eyes against the glare of the light.

"What the hell, Walt?"

"I remembered. That night you came to discuss the Fortin case."

That stopped her. "You remembered. Exactly _what_ did you remember?"

"Everything, or most of it. I remembered you and me. On the couch, on the bed. I don't think I performed my best that night."

"Your best might kill me, then."

"You admit it!"

"I never denied it," she said, but did not invite him up the stairs. Then, "I'm glad you finally remembered. Now let's get some sleep." She turned to go back inside.

"Henry is my son, Vic."

At that, she turned back. She was no less clear than he had been in an alley almost a year ago. "The nature of my relationships and my personal life are none of your business, Walt." She turned back inside and slammed the door behind her.

He stood still as though he'd been pole-axed, actually, she just had done that, a effective stake through his heart.

"You'd keep my son from me?" he roared, but in pain, not so much anger. He deserved every word of what she'd said.

The lights inside went out.

He went in, clumping up, defeating the inadequate lock and cursing that she stayed here in possible harm's way, when she and Henry could have his protection.

He got inside two steps before he heard the unmistakable click of a safety being taken off.

"Don't, Walt," her voice came, husky from sleep and the dark, only a sliver of light from the sodium light making the room less inky.

"It was you, you all the time, Vic. Why I talk about you in my sleep, why I have to change my sheets so often, why I can't sleep in my bed, anymore…"

He heard her breathing, ragged in the dark. "How could you do that, Walt? How could you not remember that night? How could you not remember _me?_ "

He shook his head, forgot she couldn't see it at first, then cleared his throat to try and get it out. "Vic," he said softer. "I'm an idiot. I was an idiot from the first moment I saw Eamonn. I thought you two had been at it while I processed the Barlow mess."

"Everybody flirts, remember that, Walt? I said it before, but you wouldn't believe it. You still don't believe it." Her voice was thick and he felt awful. He had made her cry.

"Vic, sweetheart, come here, don't cry, it's a good thing. I've remembered what an idiot I am in time. We can be together."

"No," she said, but her voice was muffled, as though wiping it on her sleeve. "No, this has only shown us why we shouldn't be together."

He stopped. He had no answer, no coaxing for that.

"You broke into my trailer because you're mad at me."

"No—I—I'm not mad, I'm worried about you. I don't want to lose either you or Henry, or our future."

"I've learned a lot in the last seven months. Mostly about me. Go home, Walt, and I won't call 911."

He put his head down, tried for levity. "Vic, 911 is standing in front of you."

"No, the on-duty 911. I'm not kidding, Walt. You don't make these off-duty rules. You made the alley rules, the "y _ou were forgettable"_ rules, and kinda threw the morals rules at me along the way."

"That would still make me an idiot, but not a bad man."

"Henry and I are fine, Walt. You need to leave."

It was like having a golfball in his throat. He could barely see, and realized he was crying, too.

"Okay."

"Okay."

"You can take off tomorrow if you need to."

"We'll be in for our shift." She and Henry as a team. She gave not a quarter.

His head bowed, he knew he was beaten, that he could never touch her in anger, or hurt his son.

"Your choice." But he heard something he had not heard for a long time, his own voice breaking as he stumbled out of the trailer, down the metal steps and back to the Bronco.


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: Okay, so I got a few details wrong, including that Glocks do not have a safety, and why naming the baby Henry might bring scrutiny upon both Vic and Henry. So be aware of the Glock issue. As for naming the baby, Vic really does believe Henry brought Walt back off Cloud Peak,so she names the baby after him. I concede, though, someone could point fingers.**_

 _ **I really, truly am clearing the Season 4 decks to sail on the new ship tomorrow, so there might even be a bonus gift later today, not this one. BTW, this has a fourth part partially done.**_

 _ **Everyone enjoy Season 5 Sept 23d, tomorrow!**_

 **Rememorize**

 **Part 3**

 **Nine and one-half months Along**

He sat in the waiting chair in front of the pastel sunset mural. It seemed like he had been there a dozen times in the past few years. They had wheeled Vic back, but some very nervous aides had come up and been whispering together just a few minutes earlier.

Cady joined him in the hard chairs. "It'll be okay, dad. I'm really excited to have a little brother. I always wanted one."

He peered down at her. For more than a month, now, he hadn't wanted a succession of beers to get, as Bob put it, _numb and dumb._ "You really mean that, Punk?"

"You bet. You do know that Ferg and I gave Vic babysitting chits at the shower, right? We both want you two to have some quality time alone together a few months from now?"

"No. She didn't say anything."

"She's still pretty mad at you, dad. Something about Moretti women being _unforgettable._ "

"She was. She is." And then he stopped, not wanting to divulge details of that nature to his daughter. Hell, he had barely been able to talk about it with Henry, or Vic, herself, for that matter.

Omar came in, twisting his designer beanie, stomping his feet, removing his gloves and generally shaking off.

"You're not going to give me a ticket for parking the helicopter in Freddy Jenkins' field, are you, Walt?"

Despite his agitation, his lips curved up.

"No, Omar, and thanks for the lift. I expect Vic will eventually get around to thanking you."

"She's one feisty Italian tomato for sure, Walt. I have a place she could raise that kid up—"

"Just leave it, Omar."

Omar's eyes narrowed. "Did she mean it, little Henry _Longmire_ , Walt, or was she just in labor?"

Walt glowered as Cady tried to hide a grin, unsuccessfully.

A nurse with a badge that read _Lippin_ who appeared to be in her early forties walked up in front of them. She seemed uncommonly nervous.

"You Sheriff Longmire?"

He stood up immediately, twisting his hat in his hands. "I am. She asking for me?"

"No. The doctor has requested you to come back in professional capacity."

"Prof—as Sheriff?" His heart chllled. "Vic did something?" Up to and including pointing a scalpel at or shooting someone? He wouldn't put it past her if she were riled up enough.

"She punched a doctor, used a martial arts thing on a nurse's wrist, and won't let them touch her to put an IV in. We thought maybe you could…er, restrain or handcuff her or something. Also…sheriff?"

He was already striding off. He turned his head. "Yeah?"

The woman winced. "Could you try and convince her to keep the language a little, uh, cleaner? Some of the orderlies back there are pretty young. She knows some that _I_ haven't even heard."

In a Vic kind of way, that was pretty funny. The corners of his mouth turned up despite the gravity of the situation.

"Normally," she chattered on, trying to keep up with his long stride down the hall, "HIPAA would keep you out front, since you're not family and she hasn't put you on her HIPAA list…"

"She's my deputy. Let me see her."

"Okay," said Lippin, "but we still shouldn't…".

"And the baby's mine." He turned away from her and increased his speed.

Behind him, he heard Omar shout, "You dog! She really _meant_ that about Little Longmire?"

That shut up the chatterboxes, both of 'em. Let them sort it out between themselves.

 **A Few Days after Remembering**

Walt had heard about the baby shower, and knew he should contribute. Ruby dutifully took forty dollars from him for their joint purchase.

"Don't put my name on it," he said. "She might not accept it."

Ruby pursed her lips and glared at him. "Whatever did you do to cause that, Walter?" She enunciated every word, and he knew he was in dire trouble with his dispatcher.

He hung his head, but let her stew in her suspicions. He couldn't let this impasse with Vic eat at him. He elected to do something he should have done long ago. See Henry.

Henry was not front man at the Pony that night. Instead, he was in the kitchen.

As Walt pushed through the swinging door, Henry gave him an apologetic smile as he turned buffalo burgers. "Staff turnover has increased since Malachi's ownership."

Walt twisted his lips. It was only to be expected. Henry's staff had always been loyal, and when they left, they often went on to bigger and better things. The new staff, without Henry's hiring practices and careful supervision, was often lacking.

"I wondered if I could talk to you about something, but if you're busy…"

"Give me five minutes."

They no longer had Henry's office to retreat to, it was now Malachi's domain. Instead, they went outside and leaned against the porch rail running along the front of the building. He held the obligatory Rainier, while Henry cradled a mug of coffee. The slight chill of early autumn and a promised storm hung in the air, too soon to tell if it would be rain, sleet or snow.

"So, Walt, what is eating at you?"

He looked sharply at his friend of forty-plus years. "Why do you say that?"

He gave that supercilious little head shake. "You rarely seek my advice if something is not."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh. Do you know, I had the most remarkable visit from Vic a couple of weeks ago?"

His lips curved upward, just hearing her name. "Remarkable, how?"

"She asked if I would mind her naming the baby after me."

He looked sharply at Henry. "What did you say?"

"I replied with the truth, of course, that I would be honored, but I wondered why."

Here it was. She had spilled the beans, to Henry of all people, and he was going to hear about it right now.

"Do you know what she said?"

He clenched his fists subconsciously. He thought he had a pretty good idea.

"She said it was because I had brought you back off Cloud Peak alive, and more recently helped her survive morning sickness, that every time she said the name, she would think of that true friend who did those things for her."

"For bringing me back?"

"And supporting her in the early days of her pregnancy. She really does not have many friends in Durant, especially woman friends. I suspect she is too rough for them."

So she hadn't told Henry. "I thought she had me, until she took up with Eamonn." He tried to keep the peeved note out of his voice.

Henry began tapping his fingers against the rail. "She said the baby is not Eamonn's but she worries if she names him after me, ignorant people may think he is mine. She wanted me to be prepared."

"What did you tell her?"

"Again, I told her truth, that I would be honored if he _were_ mine, but knowing he was not, I was sure he would carry the name well."

'I don't know what to do, Henry."

"About what?"

"About Vic."

"What is there to do? She will have the child and raise him."

"It's all my fault." There. It was out. If anyone would, Henry would understand, and know what to do.

"What is your fault?"

"The child. The baby. One night together, but I was blind drunk. I didn't…remember at first. Well, for a while."

"You and Vic." he sounded unsurprised. "I had thought things might be headed that direction, you two have grown close over a long time. I wondered especially after I found her at your cabin just before we intercepted Jacob at the airfield."

His eyes darted to Henry. "Vic was at the cabin?"

"Looking very pretty, and carrying beer. I thought maybe she wanted to support you or celebrate freeing me and finding Martha's killer."

"Oh."

"Then of course, you found Branch, and the whole department descended into a tailspin. I also had my own preoccupations at the time."

"You could've told me to steer clear of Donna instead of popping me in the nose."

"Ah, yes, Donna. I did not understand the gravity of that situation. A single dream."

He tried to defend it. "Indians are always having dreams which mean things."

Henry peered down his nose at Walt. Walt believed that was more effective when Henry had his glasses on. "You are not Indian, my friend."

He made a noise through his nose. "Sometimes I wish I were."

"Was that the only dream?"

"I dreamed about Donna again, and then…I dreamed about Vic. Dreamed and dreamed and dreamed. Pretty lurid stuff."

"Dreaming, or…remembering?"

He swallowed. "What do you mean?"

"Were you possibly just remembering your night together? The one you could not remember, except in your dreams? Your subconscious did not want you to forget that night until some trigger recalled it?"

He shut his eyes and hung over the rail. "I don't know. I offered to marry her, I want to be part of Henry's life."

"Do you want to be part of Vic's life?"

"Of course."

"Did you tell her that?"

He stopped. Had he? Or had he just talked about the baby, and her coming to live with him?

"I—" His indecision must have shown.

"The Vic dreams served to keep the memory of your night together fresh. Unless you and she figure out how to get past those, you will not be able to make new ones or rememorize her, or that night."

He breathed out, defeated. "I don't know how to do that, not after what I did. You should have heard her, ' _How could you not remember me_?' It cut me, Henry, to the quick."

"You will have to do some heart-searching to figure out how to keep that from happening again, and how to move things forward."

Malachi ambled out the front door. "Break time's over, Hank. Back to the kitchen with you."

Walt gave Henry a look, like how could he stand it, but Henry moved away from the rail and followed Malachi inside.

So much was so wrong.

 **XXX**

 **Nine and one-half Months Along, Four Hours Earlier**

Of course the blizzard of the year hit, and of course her water broke in the thick of it. The Bronco couldn't compete with two feet of snow.

"I know we should have stayed with Cady a few days, or even at the station. I'll call Omar." Walt was grim over the weather, nervous as a cat, and he transmitted both of those. Couldn't he transmit _kumba ya_ and peaceful meditation instead? She was already wound up and beginning to feel pains.

Then she acknowledged that, fuck, no, this was _Wal_ t.

The contractions had started, but she didn't want him to know, yet. "Oh, don't bother him, and just for future reference, I don't think I could have made it up and down the station stairs." Yes, she was fretful, but each contraction almost sent her over the edge, and she just didn't want to send him over the edge as well.

"I would have carried you." He grinned and leered a little. She thought he probably could have, but she deflected it. Still, it was reassuring, that although the size of a truck, he still seemed attracted.

"And what, give you a heart attack? Not from shoveling snow, carrying a gravid Moretti."

He came up close, kissed the top of her head, and put his hand on her belly. "Gravid Moretti is pretty exciting stuff."

"Yeah, yeah." A contraction hit, and she reached for the table bent over it. He immediately stilled, but rubbed her belly through it. He _had_ to feel that.

"How frequent?"

The gig was up, of course he'd felt it.

"Last one was seven minutes ago."

"More than time to call Omar."

An hour later, Omar set his helicopter down carefully onto a scoured area. Fortunately, he wouldn't have to fly very high to the hospital, the buffeting winds had died down, and he only had to clear some foothills, no mountains in the way.

Despite her protests, Walt carried her out to the helicopter, ducking for the whirling blades. A tall man in snow, she worried at that. He barely seemed to notice her weight.

"Well, Vic," Omar said as she tried to get the seatbelt around her, as Walt clambered in to join them. "None of us should be out in this, but here we are."

She held in the urge to bite his head off. She had been doing really well at refraining from cussing, practicing for the baby.

"Let her be, Omar. Contractions are four minutes apart."

His eyes widened. "That's pretty close."

"Yep, she's not feeling great, so let's get moving, please?"

She wondered if they would stop referring to her in the third person, as though she weren't there.

She'd fix that. "Little Longmire wants out _today_."

She heard Omar's shock. "Walt?"

"Just fly," he gritted out, but he kissed her hand as it clenched with another contraction.

"Fuck!" she said, as the newest contraction hit, hard.

XXX

 **Two Weeks after the Remembering**

She finally figured out the origins of the dirt in her mug when she tried standing on a stool and peering up and into her cabinet. It was a branch sticking through the siding into the cabinet. There was definitely a softball-size hole, which wouldn't keep out either critters or weather.

Not great environs for a new baby.

She called her landlord. He promised to get right on it, but in another week, he still hadn't done anything.

Walt showed up again the night she thought she might have to take some action on it. A storm had hit, and her kitchen cabinet had developed a trickle of water down to the counter.

"I just wanted to see how you're doing." The nights were much cooler, and she had shortened her walks again. The first serious storm of the season was overdue, and she was really nervous how the trailer would take it. The weather reports were currently predicting it in the next couple of days, and here she was, vulnerable.

"What's wrong?" he asked, after a few minutes.

"Um." She tried to be casual. "I called the landlord last week, there's some damage to the outside."

"Hmmm. Let me have a look."

She directed him around to where the branch had pierced the structure.

"This is no good, Vic, it's already leaking, no barrier to wildlife, and it won't keep you warm this winter."

By _you,_ she knew he meant her and the baby.

"I can call him again." She knew she sounded weak, that the Terror would have had the guy out there in twenty-four hours.

"Thing is, I don't think he can fix it, it's not the branch or the hole, it's the siding. It's gotten water in it, it's weakened. The whole thing will eventually give way."

"Huh." Her hopes for a safe, warm home for the baby to come home to suddenly went up in figurative smoke.

"Look, Vic, I know you're mad at me. Hate me if you want, but you can stay with me until we can find you both somewhere safer." He lips bunched, his voice was low. "Do it to be warm, and for the baby. This place won't survive the winter."

She made a noise through her nose, of discontent. She felt maneuvered, but she was pretty sure he was right, had been when she'd seen what a puny branch had done to the siding.

"You don't have room for all of Henry's stuff." She was sort of right, it had taken over most of the trailer.

"We'll make room, and I have a washer and dryer. You're going to need that."

"And it's just until I find something?"

"Yep. First snowstorm's supposed to come in this weekend. Let's get you out of here before then."

She chewed on her lip. Maybe it was her pregnant brain. Maybe it was Henry's incessant kicking at night. It didn't take much these days. "All right."

But she wasn't happy about it, and it would only send another wave of speculation around town. A baby named Henry, and living with the sheriff…


	4. Chapter 4

XXX

"What took you so long?" Vic was sweating and gritting her teeth. He could help that. He grasped her hand, which had a firmer grip than most men's. At the moment, it was painful, reflecting just how her day was going.

The white-coated woman sitting between her tented spread knees looked up. "Doctor Sahil. You're Sheriff Longmire?"

"Yes, ma'am. They asked me back in professional capacity?" He gave Vic a quick admonishing look. She looked away and began panting instead.

"Maybe you can get her to relax and focus. It won't be long, now."

He might, he had no idea what to do. Instead, he tried a joke.

"You can't put staff here in a wrist lock, sweetheart. It might be considered an act of aggression."

She groaned a little. He rubbed her belly, and felt it beginning to ripple.

"That feels good, mmm. They had poked me three times, Walt, I ask you, but—Now? _Now_ you call me sweetheart?"

"I can't think of a better time. Breathe now. Breathe, I can feel it."

Her eyes lost focus a moment, before locking with his. Trust shone in them. Trust, in spite of their differences. Trust in spite of his Pappy-riddled memories.

With trust, he hoped she would let him help in any way he could. She abandoned his hand, and gripped at his forearm. He was sure he would have bruises the next day, but would wear them proudly if it made this bearable for her.

He tried another joke. "Last time, they called me in after the fact." He could feel the contraction overwhelming her. It was a big one. The sounds she made—grunting, groaning. He'd seen calves and foals born. This seemed far more painful than they had to endure.

The doctor sitting between her tented thighs radiated excitement. "One more like that! We're nearly there!"

"You mean, last time, in the dark ages?" She was trying to joke back, but still panting. His one hand still on her belly, could feel the ripples already forming another contraction. So close together. She had no time to relax between—

"Bear down now! Bear down!" Doctor Sahil, firm and in position, was now in charge.

"This is all your faultttttt…." She ground out, before emitting a strangled groan.

"Crowning!" The doctor was exultant. "Just a few more."

"Easy for him to say," she whispered, gritting her teeth.

"I'm here, Vic. Not going anywhere. Let's see our Henry."

"Bear down! Bear down!"

 **###**

She opened her eyes to see Walt sitting with Henry swaddled in his arms as though he couldn't believe it. For the first time, it looked to her that he had made peace with his life.

"Hmmm?" She tried for a question.

"Hey," he said, freeing one hand and taking hers.

"You and Henry getting acquainted?"

"And thinking. He's a little thinker."

She made a disbelieving noise. "He can't be mine, then."

"The nurse told me to call her when you were awake. She'll help you get comfortable, and then help you with him for the first time. He's been pretty content, though. Exhausting stuff, being born. For his dad, too."

He reached over, pressed the nurse call button.

"Hmmm." She agreed, shifted a little, winced. He gripped her hand in sympathy, more.

"Vic."

She stopped moving, threw him a glance, to see there were tears in his eyes. Tears. She had never seen him cry, over Cady when she'd been hurt, over Branch, over Donna. She had always imagined he had shed all his tears for Martha, but he was crying now.

"Walt?" She tried to clear her throat.

"I figured it out, Vic. The dreams wouldn't let me forget you until we could catch up to each other."

She tried to soften it, but he deserved the truth. "Walt, it was sex. Great sex, but a one-nighter you couldn't even remember." It came out harsher than she intended.

He took what sounded like a bracing breath. "That night, that might have been, but my dreams wouldn't let me forget how special it was, they made me rememorize it, whenever the experience started to recede. It may have started with sex, but…" he drew her hand to touch Henry's peaceful face, "with Henry's help, it transformed to love."

The rosebud mouth made sucking noises against where Walt's finger lay against the tiny mouth.

He did not let go of her hand.

She could feel the tears slipping down her own face. _Shit._ Then he said it.

"I love you and Henry, Vic. I want to rememorize you both every day and night from now on."

She couldn't answer him. The past was there, between them, but then, so was Henry.

It was like a proposal to them both.

The nurse came in, all business.

"You two all right?" she asked briskly, seeming to like all the monitors attached to her, but not the blotchy face. "Joy, or unhappy?"

"Just happy," said Walt gruffly, as baby Henry let out a dissatisfied grunt. It could be _I'm wet, I'm hungry,_ or _stop crying_ , but it was a demand that the world immediately tumbled to attend to his needs. Master Henry had arrived.

 **TWO MONTHS LATER**

"It will disappear," said Ferg, encouraging. "Baby weight just takes time.

Ferg's words didn't help. Vic had just resumed walking, but wasn't up to running, yet. Carrying around the milk wagon wasn't condusive to so much jiggling, and they were tender. Henry was a fierce lil sucker.

Ruby came over and swatted Ferg. "You leave her alone."

Vic sighed in both relief and weariness. Henry at night, working during the day.

Today Walt had volunteered to stay with Henry while she caught up on paperwork, but she was going to have to pump again if she didn't leave soon.

Steps sounded on the stairs, and she immediately had a moment of panic. Walt bringing in Henry—why?

But it was Omar, beanie in hand in deference to the storm outside. Omar, who as recently-elected mayor, had defeated a disgraced Sawyer in a runaway election.

"Walt asked if I'd drive you home. You doing okay, Vic?"

She felt her lips twitch. She could drive, after all, but as tired as she was, gave a genuine smile. "Sure. First day I've left Henry, and I'm missing him. He's been pretty good in the office, but I know babies are a distraction."

"You look tired. I don't mind, besides, it's a mayoral perk to see a future constituent of Absaroka County."

"Ha." The guy who got me to the hospital in a timely manner so Walt didn't have to deliver that future. You don't know how much I appreciate that."

"Walt's just worried the storm will get worse and strand you here. I've got Big Bertha with me today."

She knew Bertha well. The dually could get almost anywhere with protruding treads and studs.

Ferg spoke up. "You go on, Vic. I can finish up here."

Ferg could. He had become a good friend, and a wonderful uncle. He and Cady were awesome babysitters, especially in tandem.

"Ferg's right. We're about to close up shop and go to emergency only, anyway," said Ruby.

Vic took a deep breath, squared the pile of papers and closed the file over them.

"I'll just get my coat."

She didn't have to say much on the trip out. Omar went on and on about ideas for partnerships with the casino and big money hunters, ideas for improvements for Durant.

She mostly smiled and listened. Her heart was a few miles distant, to a cabin in the snow.

He finally asked her, point-blank. "You gonna get around to marrying him? Because I think he's finally thinking straight since Martha died."

She didn't answer, just smiled at the snow and turned her head away.

Walt didn't come out to the porch when they arrived. Omar shoveled a path in with the one he kept in Bertha's bed. He continued to shovel the porch while she slipped in and removed her outerwear.

She was still wearing her maternity jeans, especially today with long underwear, and was afraid she would never quite fit into ones as tight as she used to wear. It had suddenly become less important, and Walt seemed to enjoy her new curves just fine. They had resumed relations a couple of weeks back, without problem or issue, although she was once again on the pill.

She glanced around. No Walt in the living area or kitchen. After yanking her boots off and setting them to dry near the fire, she tiptoed into their room where Henry's crib lay along the warmer inner wall for the duration. Walt had expansive plans for enlarging the cabin in warmer weather.

Walt and Henry were both out cold on the big bed, Walt snoring softly, his body cradling a blanket-wrapped Henry who sucked his lower lip in his sleep, his signal that it was nearly time for dinner again.

Vic bit her own lip and quietly removed her cell phone. She turned off the flash and snapped a few pictures of them together for posterity. Behind her in the other room, she could hear Omar messing with the fire.

He came to stand in the doorway behind her and whispered, "You are one lucky lady, Vicky."

For this time only, she didn't correct him, because he was so right, but she couldn't stop smiling.


End file.
